Full Moon
by ShanMah
Summary: AU  Really, it was supposed to be an ordinary dinner, casual. Friendly. But fate had to strike, and the professors had another thing coming... how far can one go for a prophecy?
1. An ordinary dinner

**Disclaimer:**I do not own anything related to Harry Potter, nor do I make money out of this fanfiction: everything belongs to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing but my copies of the books and DVDs. And my fanattitude. Boy am I hooked on this goddamn story. POTTER FEVER!

**Pairing:**Dramione. (Draco/Hermione, for those who wouldn't know... really, where have you been for the last ten years? Living under a rock? ;) )

**Rating:**M

**Context: **Ok, so, I started writing this a long time ago, right after I read the fifth book (a long time ago, as I said, since I purchased it and read it as soon as it was released). It's in their sixth year, however, it does not take into account the sixth book, as (obviously) it wasn't released when I started writing this, and it actually kinda screw me over, lol. However I was pretty young when I started it, so I'm kinda revamping the whole thing for you, keeping my original idea of course. So, it's an AU. Voldemort's power is rising, Death Eaters are on the loose, people are getting afraid and paranoid... it seems that only a miracle could end this war and bring peace yet again on the wizarding world.

Note: Ironically, I find the track "Snape and the Unbreakable Vow" to be extremely fitting for this chapter. Or maybe it's just me loving this track to death.

**Full Moon**

**Chapter 1: An ordinary dinner**

It was Chritmas' Eve. Despite the fact that the atmosphere in the school was heavier than it normally was, due to the recent events, Dumbledore had insisted that they should organize a special dinner, like they usually did. When some teachers had tried to argue against it, saying it wasn't normal to do so in such situation, he had responded that Voldemort (everyone but McGonagall had shuddered at the sound of his name) would only grow more powerful if his presence stopped ordinary people from doing ordinary things, such as a Christmas banquet.

Most of them had seemed to think that Dumbledore was officially off his rocker, but he didn't mind at all and went on with organizing Christmas Eve for his students.

Little did he know, every single student had been called back home for the holidays, which was most unusual. Generally, at least some of them would stay.

"Strange," McGonagall commented, looking at the empty tables of the Great Hall. "You would expect people to try and keep their children in the safest place, namely Hogwarts."

Dumbledore smiled kindly, not bothered at all that his well prepared banquet lacked the most important element - _guests_.

"You would also expect parents to try and have their children near them. They think it's safer."

"Delusional," Snape simply and coldly stated.

"Perhaps, but parents being what they are... also, some of them have no faith whatsoever in my abilities to protect their sons and daughters. Well, why don't we celebrate ourselves?"

He took a glass of pumpkin juice on the Ravenclaw table, and showed it to his teachers.

"Merry Christmas, my friends."

He then took a sip from his glass, earning him a couple of odd glares, especially from Snape.

"It's Christmas for us too, isn't it? Let's enjoy this dinner the elves prepared for our absent students, shall we?"

And so the headmaster sat there, at the Ravenclaw table, quickly followed by Hagrid and professor Sprout. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore turned the pumpkin juice into wine, a more appropriate beverage for them. One after the other, the teachers sat at the Ravenclaw table, with Snape only sitting the last, when he felt obliged by all of his co-workers having done the same. He, however, made a point in sitting as far from the others as he could, arms crossed on his chest and a scowl over his face. It was pretty obvious that this didn't feel right for him, and that he wished nothing but to go back to his office deep into the school's dungeons, and brew some complicated potion.

Slowly but surely, all of them joined Dumbledore in his dinner, and the conversations started. Even the most severe of them were human beings, after all - including Snape.

Though it took Severus Snape several more glasses of wine to become enjoyable than most other people, after a couple of hours, everybody was having a good time, and even the master of potions had been seen laughing at some jokes.

"And then," Hagrid loudly said, "Longbottom - dear Merlin, this boy is going to kill me - decided to hang the-"

But the rest of the teachers would never come to know what Neville Longbottom had done that was so hilarious, because all of a sudden, Trelawney gasped, clenching her fingers around her glass so firmly that it broke, but she didn't mind the red wine on her fingers, nor did she mind the broken pieces of glass that fell in her food. Gasping again, she seized the closest arm - which happened to be Minerva's - and started speaking:

"When the moon is full, the wise becomes a fool..."

Minerva sighed heavily. Everyone knew she disliked Divination. Understatement. She_ loathed_ it.

"For the love of Gryffindor, let us enjoy this dinner withou this stupid-"

"Opposites shall attract, enemies shall become lovers... amber will meet iron under the silver light... the Chosen One will merely be a decoy for the true saviour... alabaster skin and purity together, new witch and old wizard, both will lead to the downfall of the Lord... if allowed to love even once... a mere child will be His demise yet again, in the castle of knowledge... this is the miracle we are waiting for."

There was a long silence. While McGonagall looked pretty upset, everyone else was simply looking at each others, clearly wondering what they were supposed to say or do. Pretend it didn't happen? Ask her for more informations? And what was _it,_ exactly? Trelawney blinked, her face showing nothing but confusion, and she looked at Minerva.

"I'm sorry, my dear, you were saying?"

The Animagus scowled and she opened her mouth, clearly about to reply something harsh, but she closed it when her eyes met with Dumbledore's. _Don't say anything_, the crystal blue eyes said to her. Slowly breathing in, she regained her calm.

"I was simply asking if you could pass me the mash potatoes."

Merlin, did she _hate_ DIvination.

"Gladly."

Trelawney then handed a plate to Minerva - the carrots, to be more accurate. Taking the plate, Minerva shook her head slightly. How could someone who was _supposed _to be able to predict the future be so dimwitted?

"Severus."

Dumbledore got on his feet. Apparently, he didn't feel like celebrating Christmas anymore.

"I would like to see you in my office. Now."

Snape nodded very slightly, and followed the headmaster without a word. Still confused, the seer looked at her coworkers.

"Is it something I said?" she asked, completely oblivious to the situation.

* * *

><p>"Close the door, Severus."<p>

The head of Slytherin obeyed in silence, quietly following Dumbledore with his dark eyes. The older wizard went straight to his Pensieve, drawing his wand.

"Let's..."

He put the wand to his head, slowly pulling out what seemed to be a stray of silver hair.

"Listen to what she has to say one more time..."

He then dropped the filament in the bowl. What seemed to be pure water suddenly went blurr, and a gray, ghost-like version of Trelawney appeared. The memory slowly turned, stuck in the Pensieve.

"When the moon is full, the wise becomes a fool... Opposites shall attract, enemies shall become lovers... amber will meet iron under the silver light... the Chosen One will merely be a decoy for the true saviour... alabaster skin and purity together, new witch and old wizard, both will lead to the downfall of the Lord... if allowed to love even once... a mere child will be His demise yet again, in the castle of knowledge... this is the miracle we are waiting for."

She had repeated it in the exact same way, with the exact same tone and words.

"How do we even know we can trust this?" Snape carefully asked.

He sneered.

"She is known for rambling all day long, after all."

"While most of her predictions are false, she _has_ seen the truth before. Only once before have I seen her like this - and it let to the tragic events we both know."

Severus did not speak and he crossed his arms, his face closed. Of course he _knew_. Trelawney's last and only prophecy had led to the death of James and Lily Potter, and it had given birth to the myth of Harry Potter. Had it not been for this stupid woman, Potter would be nothing but an ordinary student right now, rather than a famous so-called hero that walked around with an ego even bigger than his father's.

"Again, please."

Dumbledore moved his wand in the Pensieve slowly, softly, and the memory of Trelawney's etheral voice spoke the prediction again. Severus listened very carefully, allowing every single word to sink into his mind.

"Well, for the obvious part, there is a child," Snape slowly said. "Conceived under the full moon by two enemies. Old wizard and new witch don't make much sense, though. Unless the father's child is significatively older than the mother, but then why _new_ instead of young?"

"Maybe it's not the age. Maybe it refers to something else. Prophecies..."

Dumbledore smiled very slightly, as though he was having a good time.

"Prophecies are often very, very tricky... and misleading. If not careful, one can interpret them wrongly. We both know who I am talking about."

Snape's expression became even more sour than usual. Of course he knew. If the Dark Lord hadn't rushed in thinking that Potter had to be killed as a baby, or else he would become a threat, all because of the prophecy _he _had overheard, then... well, many things would not have happened.

"No need to remind me of it, Albus. Speaking of Potter, he _is_ mentioned again."

His lips formed a bitter smirk.

"How _surprising_."

"This time, he is 'merely a decoy', though," Dumbledore said, lost in his thoughts. "What is that supposed to mean..."

"That Potter wasn't as important as we thought, obviously."

Dumbledore couldn't help but shake his head. Severus Snape was a very neutral person, except when it came to Harry Potter - whenever it was about the Boy Who Lived, Snape became extremely biaised, and the headmaster could hardly blame him. Some wounds took very long to heal, if ever.

"But a decoy can be very important," he argued.

Severus merely nodded, and decided it was better not to carry on with this topic. Speaking of Potter made his skin crawl.

"The castle of knowledge is most likely Hogwarts. The parents of the child mentioned are probably within our walls, which is good. We might be able to spot the mother and protect her, if the need arises."

He sighed very lightly.

"I don't suppose we could simply ask her about her own prophecy? More details about what she saw?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"Sadly, no. As you probably noticed, she doesn't know she made that prophecy - she can't remember her real predictions. When she gave me the prophecy of the Chosen One, she had no idea it happened."

Snape sneered.

"Convenient," he said rather ironically.

The headmaster gave him a mysterious smile.

"Divination is rarely convenient, Severus..."


	2. A tough potion

**Chapter 2: A tough potion**

"Bloody hell," Ron sighed for the hundreth time. "Bloody. Freaking. Hell."  
>"Ron," Hermione growled, "For Merlin's sake, get over it."<br>"_Bloody hell_."  
>"Ronald Weasley, get a <em>grip!<em> This_ is_ happening and you have nothing to say about it."  
>"How can you say that to me!"<p>

Harry rolled his eyes, and helped himself with another portion of cheese omelet.

"Ron, even_ I_ have gotten over it," he said matter-of-factly. "It's not that bad."  
>"Are you mad?"<p>

He swallowed the content of his glass in one sip.

"Bloody hell, I think I'm gonna be sick."

His face suddenly illuminated, as though he had suddenly seen something particularly beautiful.

"That's a good idea! Maybe I should get sick-"

The red-headed Gryffindor started to fill his golden plate with enormous quantities of food. Even for him, who was pretty famous for his large appetite, this seemed too much.

"Ron, grow up, will you," Hermione sighed. "We _are_ having potions this morning."  
>"But this is unfair!" Weasley protested. "It's completely unfair! To have potions classes <em>just <em>after coming back from holidays! It's torture!"

Harry shrugged.

"Gotta start somewhere, I guess."  
>"But potions - with <em>Snape!<em> Isn't it a_ little_ harsh?"  
>"You'd say that even if we started with Herbology," Hermione noted.<br>"No, I wouldn't!" Ron replied, apparently very insulted that she thought that.

She rolled her eyes and got on her feet, grabbing her bag.

"Come on. We don't want to be late."

Ron sighed like a prisoner going to meet his death sentence, and put his bag on his shoulder.

"Right, we don't want to miss any minute with Snape."

Harry laughed very shortly, giving his friend a light tap to the back.

"You'll be all right. You fought Death Eaters last year, you can handle one creepy teacher."

* * *

><p>As usual, every conversation died as soon as professor Snape entered the classroom and closed the door behind him. Some teachers had to actually ask the students to stop talking, but with the master of potions, this had always been futile. He had this curious thing about it, it was like a "shut up" aura.<p>

It never failed.

"Today, I will give each and everyone of you a small quantity of a potion," he said, without greetings or any other form of civility, as usual. "You are to create a potion that will counter the effects of the sample potion. Each person will have a different potion, so there will be no _sharing_," he insisted on that word as he looked at Harry, "No _helping_," he stared at Hermione, "And no _glances_ over the shoulder whatsoever," he finished, glaring at Ron.  
>"Blimey," Ronald muttered.<br>"Yes, Weasley, you will _actually _have to do it alone like a big boy," Snape's ice-cold voice snapped.

The teacher went to his desk to pick the vials as the Slytherins - that is to say, easily half of the students in the classroom - chuckled at the comment.

"Oh, and if you had any doubt," he added as he started his distribution of the potions, "I_ am_ taking twenty points away from Gryffindor for your attitude."  
>"What-"<p>

Ron was about to say something, but Hermione's foot on his made him shut up, along with her glare. Really, after all these years, Ron couldn't take a hint. Everytime you said something bad in Snape's classroom, he heard it, and if you weren't Slytherin, he punished you. If you were Gryffindor, he punished you twice as much. Snape smirked.

"Saved by Miss Granger again," he said, handing the Gryffindor a vial filled with a potion that was as black as ink.  
>"Begin now," Snape said. "You are allowed to use your book as well as every ingredient in the closet behind me. You have two hours - and since it is <em>individual<em>, I expect to hear nothing but the sound of potions brewing."

Hermione's potion was bright red. She carefully opened the vial, and sniffed. She blinked, surprised by the strength of the smell. There was so little potion in the vial, she expected to be barely able to smell anything, but Merlin was she wrong! It smelled like cinamon, cherry, vanilla... it was very, very sweet - _too_sweet, and the smell was powerful enough that it almost made her feel nauseous. Well, at least it was extremely recognizable, and she immediately rushed to the closet to grab everything she needed to create a counter to that love potion. As she walked back to her desk, she glanced over her two friends. Harry was turning his book's pages frenetically, trying to spot the potion he was holding, and Ron, well, Ron... he looked pretty desperate. His book was opened, but he wasn't looking at it like Harry was: apparently, he thought that staring at the potion with a hateful leer was the best strategy. Shaking her head, Hermione began her work.

While his students displayed different stages of despair and hatred, Snape was taking a careful look at each and every one of them. The parents from the prophecy were maybe in that room, those who were supposed to cause the demise of the Dark Lord in one simple night. _Enemies shall become lovers... _Parkinson and Weasley. No, this was ridiculous, nothing "prophetic" could ever come out of Weasel. Parkinson and Potter. Even more ridiculous. Furthermore, Potter was already mentioned, and not as the father. Granger and Zabini.

Snape closed his eyes for a very brief moment. _Why am I inflicting such visions to myself? _He began walking around the class, taking a look at every potion. Some people had troubles with their potions, and he was being generous. Snape scowled. How in Merlin's name had all of them managed to obtain the Optimal necessary to enter his NEWT-level class? He had eleven students, and only two of them were half competent! The first one was Granger, of course. Ah, Granger. Never in his career had he seen such an annoying Know-it-All. Why did she even bother raising her hand at each question he asked? Yes. She knew the answer. She always knew the answer, no need to rub it to everybody's face. But she was brilliant, all right - brilliant at potions making, brilliant in Transfiguration, brilliant at casting spells. There was one reason Harry Potter had survived everything he had went through in this school, and that reason's name was Hermione Jean Granger. It was relieving that when he spoke, at least one person knew what the hell he was saying. Sometimes, he went onto unnecessarly complicated notions on purpose - nobody understood anything anyway - just to see if she could keep up. Well Merlin be damned, she always understood every word he said, that bloody Gryffindor.

If only she could shut up once in a while, she would be the perfect student.

And the second, of course, was Draco Malfoy. Of course, Snape was somewhat biaised. He had been friends with his parents for many years, and he was the boy's godfather. And, of course, Draco was a Slytherin, and a proeminent one with that! Prefect and captain of the Quidditch team. But, godson or not, he was brilliant. Perhaps not as interested as Granger, but equally talented - as far as potions making went, anyway. It was no surprise for Snape that he had been able to make it to the NEWTs, and most of his potions were successful, like the one he was currently br-

Snape stopped moving altogether, right in the middle of the class. _Amber will meet iron under the silver light_...

"Excuse me, professor," a feminine voice politely said behind him. "I need to go get a phoenix feather..."

Without saying a word, Snape moved to the side, allowing Pansy Parkinson to get to the closet. Snape went to sit behind his desk, his dark eyes going from Draco to Hermione, back to Draco, back to Hermione, over and over again. This seemed so unlikely, so ridiculously unlikely! Either he was wrong, or Trelawney had drunk too much wine before making the prophecy. Or perhaps... destiny just needed a little help...

Hermione stirred her potion very carefully: it was dark blue, like it was supposed to be at that point, but it was also extremely delicate. Even Snape, who had just walked by her cauldron, had given a subtle nod of appreciation, although she was pretty sure he didn't intend her to see it. _At the last minute, add the unicorn hair, and keep stirring until the potion is snow-white_, the book said. As she took the hair between her fingers, she heard a loud BANG coming from the back of the classroom. Curious, she turned around, only to see that Draco Malfoy's cauldron had litterally exploded. Really? Since _when_ did Draco Malfoy failed a potion this much? The explosion had caused Draco to fall off his chair, but he didn't seem hurt, except maybe his pride. Nonetheless, Parkinson jumped at his side, and everyone - including Draco - rolled their eyes. _Here we go, future Pansy Malfoy's show_.

"Oh my goodness, _Drackie!_" Pansy cooed, "Are you all right, honey?"

Draco merely grunted, apparently unhappy to be called "Drackie" and "honey" in front of everyone.

"Miss Parkinson," Snape coldly said, "I think it is quite clear that he will be all right."  
>"Hermione, your potion!" Ron's panicking voice raised, and the young witch turned her attention back on her potion.<br>"Oh no!"

The dark-blue potion had boiled for far too long now, and it was running down the cauldron. Swiftly, Hermione saved her book from the flood. Sighing heavily, Snape removed the cauldron from the fire with a flick of his wand, immediately ending the disaster before it took bigger proportions.

"Well it seemed we have two T over here. I'll be examining the other potions now. Malfoy, Granger, you will stay after the class.

Of course, every other potion was mediocre. The two students who could usually do anything productive in this bloody class had failed pretty impressively. Half of them weren't even trying to make the right counter potion, for the love of Merlin!

"Class is over," his slow voice said.

Everybody left quickly - everybody _always _left quickly, trying to get away from Snape as fast as they could - except for Draco and Hermione. Hermione was mortified - how had she failed her potion? _How?_ She knew how, of course. Draco's explosion had distracted her, the potion had waited for too long for the unicorn hair, and that was it. _Damn ferret!_ she mentally growled. Draco, on the other hand, looked completely pissed. Whether it was because he had failed his potion or because Pansy had called him _Drackie _in front of the others - really, it was horrifying enough that she did it when they were alone! - was unclear.

"Mister Malfoy," he started, "You added too many rose thorns, this is why your potion exploded. Miss Granger, you-"  
>"Waited too long for the unicorn hair, yes sir," Hermione said very quickly, as though recognizing her mistake would change anything.<br>"Five points from Gryffindor for cutting me in the middle of my sentence. As I was saying, you waited too long before adding your unicorn hair. Both of your inattentions caused quite a mess, so I think you need to learn to pay attention to things. Be more meticulous, you see, making potions is all about taking care of every little detail. Friday night, you will both go into the forest, and you will bring me back two bouquets of hawthorn flowers, one each. I will need them for potions, so it's a very important task. I want them to be perfect, no broken leaves, no missing petal. Two. _Perfect. _Bouquets."

He took a pause, looking at both of them. Now, they both looked equally mortified.

"Are we clear?"  
>"Yes, professor," the two students mumbled.<br>"Good. Leave now."

He stared at them in silence as they left the classroom, each of them heading to their respective common room. If he was right, the prophecy could very well accomplish itself Friday - the first part, at least. If he was wrong, well... he'd probably have to retrieve the corpses in the forest, as they were very likely to kill each others.


	3. Freezing to burning

**Chapter 3: Freezing to burning**

"For the_ last_ time boys," Hermione sighed, "I do not want nor need that you follow me under the Invisibility Cloak!"  
>"B-but it's Malfoy!" Ron insisted.<br>"And what makes you believe I can't handle Draco Malfoy, if I may ask?"

Ron flushed.

"It's not that I think you can't _handle_ that prat, i-it's just that we don't know what he has in mind!"  
>"Yeah, Mione, we totally think you can handle the ferret. It's just, you know, we want you to be safe."<p>

Hermione rolled his eyes.

"For crying out loud, guys! What is he going to do, kill me?"

While Harry didn't say a word, the Gryffindor prefect mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "Well, you never know".

"On Hogwarts' property? Really, Ron, you think he'd ever do that? Malfoy is an elitist brat, not a psychopath."  
>"W-well then, what if something happens in the forest? He's not going to help you for sure!"<p>

The girl crossed her arms.

"_Something_, such as?"  
>"I don't know, some creature - hey, it's full moon! It's dangerous in there, you might as well end up face to face with a werewolf! What are you going to do face to face with a werewolf when Malfoy is done peeing his pants and starts running away?"<p>

Hermione shook her head.

"You are doing an incredible job at not scaring the hell out of me, you know that? You're very reassuring and everything."  
>"Well, he's right actually," Harry noted. "How come teachers keep sending us in there for detention anyway? Isn't it supposed to be <em>forbidden<em> for a reason?"  
>"We're not going very far in the forest. Just getting two bouquets of hawthorn flowers. Professor Snape wouldn't send us there on our own if it was dangerous, as much as you don't like him, Harry, he wouldn't endanger students. I'll be fine."<p>

Ron crossed his arms, mimicking Hermione's pose.

"Totally following you in there anyway," he mumbled.  
>"Ronald Weasley, I can take care of myself!" she replied, outraged. "If I ever learn you left this place when I was in the forest, I swear-"<br>"Mione," Harry said very calmly, obviously trying to avoid a fight between the two. "Why don't you just take the DA coin with you? That way if something goes wrong, whatever it is, Ron - I mean, _we_- will know."

She sighed, but nodded. All right, she would take the damned coin with her, if that made Ron shut up.

Merlin did she hate being the trio's only girl sometimes.

* * *

><p>Hermione walked into the snow, straight towards the entrance of the forest: there was no sign of anybody. She sighed and leaned her back on a tree. <em>Malfoy, you better come, or Snape himself will go get you in your damn bed<em>. She looked at the castle: still no one in sight. After five or ten minutes, she was seriously considering walking back inside, get to Snape's office, and tell him that Malfoy wasn't coming. She'd love to see Malfoy smooth-talk his way out of that one: sure he was Snape's favourite, but even the teacher's pet was expected to attend his detention if he ever got any. However, as soon as she formulated this idea, she saw his lean figure walking in her direction.

"Took you long enough," she snaped. "What were you doing, hugging your teddy bear before you went to the dark, scary forest?"

He glared at her.

"Don't get me started, Granger, you won't like it."

She rolled her eyes. _Charming as ever._ But, then again, she had been quite hostile herself. _Who cares. It's Malfoy. Be hostile, be nice, he'll be a jerk anyway. Might as well be annoying to him too_.

"Let's just get this over with," Hermione sighed.

They both entered the forest: after a few minutes walking, they found a hawthorn tree, filled with flowers.

"Well, I guess there's more than enough for two bouquets here," Hermione said. "We should be done rather quickly."  
>"How the bloody hell does it blossom like that in the middle of winter?" Draco asked. "It shouldn't even have leaves at that point of the year, let alone <em>flowers<em>."

Hermione blinked several times, speechless. She had never, not even once, since Snape had given them that task, asked herself that question. And it was a very good one, too.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe it's enchanted."  
>"Typical Mudblood answer. Why the hell enchant a tree to have flowers in winter?" he asked, rolling his eyes.<br>"Maybe your Pure Blood Highness has a better idea?" Hermione snapped back. "Just ask Snape if that's so intriguing to you!"

While he leered at her yet again, she simply took her wand from her pocket and walked towards the tree. Simply ignoring Malfoy was the best option. Sure it wouldn't make him any less of an arrogant biggot, but the less she spoke, the less oportunities he would have to be a bastard. Whispering a spell, she carefully cut a first flower from the tree. As she got the second one, she heard him sighing heavily, like a spoiled child whose fun had been ruined - which he was, actually - then walking in the snow to do just like her. With the corner of her eyes, she noticed that his moves weren't has sharp and accurate as hers. His fingers seemed harder to move, his chin was trembling.

"You're cold," she said softly.  
>"No shit, Granger," he growled, "It's mid January and we're in the middle of the night, of <em>course<em> I'm fucking frozen to the bones! Hey, back off!" Malfoy growled when she pointed her wand on him.  
>"I'm not trying to hurt you, Malfoy!"<br>"Then what are you trying to do?" Draco barked, pointing her menacingly with his own wand. "Back off, Mudblood!"  
>"I just want to use a harmless enchantment on you-"<br>"_Right_."  
>"So you won't be cold anymore," she added. "I used it on me before leaving the castle. See, I'm not freezing like you."<p>

And for the first time since they had met at the entrance of the forest, Draco noticed that, indeed, Hermione did not look cold. Her chin wasn't trembling, her cheeks weren't pink, her eyes weren't teary from the cold, dry wind that was blowing that night. Her whole body wasn't shaking.

"Now come on, Malfoy, grow up."

And before he could make any further protestations, Hermione made a large but swift motion with her wand, and Draco felt better than he had ever felt. It was as though Granger's wand had cast a powerful warm wind that had surrounded him, then entered his whole body, warming his flesh, his blood, his bones. It was almost as though the spell was warming his soul directly.

"See," she said with a smile, "It wasn't so bad after all."

And then, as if nothing had happened, she turned her attention back on the hawthorn tree. One could believe that "Thank you" would've been an appropriate thing for Draco to say at that point, but if you thought that, then you didn't know Draco Malfoy at all. By his standards, Hermione Jean Granger was not worthy of any bit of thankfullness. And, frankly, Hermione didn't expect anything in return for her help. She knew better, but not helping someone that was in need of that help was against everything Hermione Granger stood for. Sure he was a jerk, but even a jerk didn't deserve to be frozen to the bones because he failed a potion.

This was extremely weird. The two best students of the class had messed up with their potions. Hermione was generally humble, but she remained honest with herself: she knew she was one of the most brilliant students in Snape's class, and, even if it annoyed her to no end to admit it, Draco was right next to her. Maybe it was a Slytherin thing, maybe their calculating mind made them naturally good at potions making, but whatever it was, he was the only student Hermione knew for sure he would be admitted in Snape's NEWTs class. Without her really noticing it, a soft laugh escaped her lips. Draco raised an eyebrow, looking at her strangely.

"Have you finally lost your mind, Granger?"

"I was just thinking how weird the situation is. You and I both messed up with our potions, I bet nobody would've thought this would ever happened. Of course I wouldn't have failed mine if you hadn't, but still-"

"I didn't mess up with my potion," Draco growled.

"Malfoy, your cauldron _exploded_."

Draco shot her a killing glare.

"It wasn't me. I know that I didn't put too many rose thorns. Something else happened, and if I find the person who ruined my potion, I'm going to make them pay very dearly. Now _you_, on the other hand, you really fucked up, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Sure, it wasn't his fault. He really needed to get over himself.

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't distracted me."

Malfoy sneered.

"I didn't know I was such a _distraction_ to you, Granger."

Hermione's cheeks turned bright pink, and it was certainly not because of the cold she didn't even feel. Malfoy's voice sounded oddly teasing to her ears. It was almost indecent - awkward, to say the least.

"You know very well what I mean," she mumbled.

Judging her bouquet big and beautiful enough, she put her hand in her pocket, searching for the white ribbon given by Snape earlier that day.

"Damn," Hermione said between her teeth.

Draco took his grey eyes away from the tree as she bent over to retrieve the silky ribbon that had slipped between her fingers. _What an ass_. He wouldn't be caught dead saying it, or even thinking it once again, but he noticed for the very first time that she had quite a body. She was about one head shorter than he was, her hair was impossible to tame, but it had quite a nice colour. It stood somewhere between copper and gold. His eyes slid down her back: her waist was thin, and her hips, just wide enough to please him. _And that ass_. So round, so perfectly-shaped, so inviti-

"Malfoy, are you done soon?"

_Crap_.

"Done doing what?" he asked, very defensive.

"Your bouquet, for goodness' sake, unless you want to spend the whole night in the forest?"

Her lips were moving, but he barely heard her, it was like his head was underwater. But her lips... they had always been there, they had always been the same, he'd seen them every day for six years, why were they so inviting and pressing now? Why did he feel that urge of dropping the hawtorn flowers, cup her face with his hands, and kiss her like his life depended on it? He wondered how she'd taste like. He wondered how her tongue would play with his. Timidly? Fiercly? Would she give in to him, or would she try to fight him for domination?

"Malfoy?" her unsure voice softly asked.

He took a step forward, and she looked at him with confusion in her eyes, for he was getting awkwardly close, but Draco didn't see her eyes. All he was looking at was her mouth, all he was feeling and thinking about was this odd need to kiss those two pink lips. Not once did he consider that she could refuse that kiss, because if he wanted it so badly, it was only natural that she, too, wanted it.

"M-"

And then he leaned in, and their lips merged together.

**End of the chapter:** What? What? Who took too long? :D


	4. A bed made of snow

**Chapter 4: A bed made of snow  
><strong>  
>Hermione's fingers dropped the precious bouquet of delicate flowers in the snow when Draco's hands touched her face. He kissed her with such burning passion that it was as though the warmth enchantment on her had been doubled: it was the best she'd ever been given, and her mind couldn't quite compute how that was possible. Sure, with everything that was said about Draco Malfoy, you'd expect him to be a great kisser, but why on Earth, wasn't he, wasn't she...<p>

Pureblood. Mudblood. Slytherin. Gryffindor.

All of this was very true, and yet, as Hermione surrendered to him, as she threw her head back to allow his lips on her neck, it all fell apart. There was no Malfoy, no Granger, no Slytherin Pureblood, no Gryffindor Muggle-born, no elitist asshole, no annoying Miss Know-it-All. Draco could be the Gryffindor for all he knew at this point, maybe Hermione was the elitist Pureblood, for it was about one thing, and one thing only: two beings who desired each others so badly it seemed their lives depended on it. He scratched his white teeth on the fragile skin, which earned him a soft moan from her mouth. Draco felt her legs around his waist, and he held her hips firmly to keep her against him: his gaze moved up to hers, and her lusty chocolate eyes sent electricity down his spine.

_I want you,_ her eyes said. _I want you, I'm giving in to you - I want you, please want me back_.

He kissed her again - her lips were delicious. Draco couldn't quite put the finger on it, he couldn't quite describe it, but he knew for sure he wanted more of it. It wasn't Pansy's strawberry lipstick or Elisa's cherry-flavoured one, it was irresistible, addictive. How had he managed to live so many years without it? She nibbled his earlobe and he pressed his hips harder into hers: she slowly sucked on the sensitive skin, and she felt his hot breath getting heavier on her skin. Pieces of clothes began falling on the ground, and their hands wandered on the newly exposed skin: he ran his fingers up her tighs and she slightly arched her back. Hermione dug her nails, gently scratching the marble skin of Draco's back: he kissed her deeply. When her hands ended up on his belt, he chuckled very lightly, and they both fell in the snow.

The white powder floated around them a little, melting on their bodies whenever it landed on their warm skins. Hermione moaned when Draco started toying with her breasts - touching them, kissing them, licking them, sucking on them. She was burning inside, pushing her hips to meet with the hard cock she could feel through his pants. She wanted him inside her, she needed it and her body was pleading him, and yet he was still taking his time, kissing his way down her flat stomach.

Draco slid down her panties, rolling the delicate fabric down her firm legs: his pink lips lingered on the fragile skin of her inner tigh, his finger ran down the soft amber curls, mocking her, teasing her, until he finally obliged, and the index finger slowly entered her burning core. She moaned and began moving her hips to match his hand's slow motions: his body moved up, snaking up against hers, until he could look at his partner.

Her face was priceless. Slightly opened blissfull mouth, half-closed lusty eyes: she was incredibly beautiful. Hermione arched her back to kiss him again, her playful tongue begging to dance with his own - and to that, Draco was more than glad to oblige. They kissed deeply, fiercly, and her hands got rid of his pants and underwear that stood between her and what she needed so badly. Draco slightly moved back and he removed his hand, bringing it to his mouth: he licked the finger that had been pleasuring her, sucked it gently, and then he leaned in, not to kiss her, but to whisper to her.

"You're delicious."

She shivered at the sound of his voice and then gasped as he finally entered her. She dug her fingers into his silky hair and wrapped her legs around his hips. She moved with him and their pleasured voices arose: each sigh, each moan, each whimper was a music note that created the rythm to their forbidden dance. Draco's moves were slow, then rough, then slow again, playing with her, teasing her, testing her. What did she like the most? What made her moan, what made her arch her back?

"Draco-"

A tiny scream followed, he felt her nails in his skin and her body incredibly tense under him. Again, Hermione's pleasured face was priceless, she looked almost relieved: Draco thrusted one last time and hummed lowly to her ear, giving her chills that had nothing to do with the snow under her.

Draco slowly lifted his head and their dreamy gazes met. They looked at each others for a long time, without speaking a word, without moving a limb, until Hermione broke the silence:

"I'm... I'm getting cold."

The spell she had cast on herself was slowly disappearing and she was starting to realize how cold the snow was on her back, how freezing the wind was that night. Draco silently moved away, allowing her to get up as he, too, reached out for his clothes. Dazzled, he barely reacted when she handed him a bouquet.

"That's... why we came here, isn't it?" she reminded him.

_Came here_. Suddenly those two innocent words were awfully erotic, sexual beyond reason. Their minds still very clouded, Draco and Hermione started walking back to the castle: as they entered the Great Hall, Draco stopped.

"No one's finding out about this, right?"  
>"Uh?"<p>

Slowly, reality was coming back to them. There _was_ a Pureblood Slytherin who was supposed to be an elitist asshole. There _was_ a Muggle-born Gryffindor who was supposed to be a very annoying Miss-Know-It-All for the former. What had just happened in the forest shouldn't even have happened in a dream, let alone in real life. He shouldn't even _consider_ her, she shouldn't ever let him get close to her in any way, and yet...

"No," she finally said. "No one."  
>"It was weird," Draco continued, "I felt..."<p>

He shook his head. She didn't have to know how badly he'd wanted her - and completely out of the blue, ontop of that! Hermione Granger didn't _need_ to know that he, Draco Malfoy, had had such a burning and irresistible desire for her, right? No need to give her such satisfaction.

"Doesn't matter," he finished, resuming his walk.

She followed in silence, and reached the door to Snape's office right when Draco knocked.

"Come in," his cold voice said from behind the wooden door.

He wasn't sleeping? _Really?_ Even the most rational part of Hermione was beginning to consider that he was actually a vampire.

"Ah, it's you two," the professor flatly said, barely looking at them. "It took you long enough, I was starting to believe that _something_ had happened to you."  
>"Nothing!" Hermione hastily said, "We went in the forest, got the flowers, then came back here! Right Malfoy?"<p>

_Malfoy_. She'd said Draco earlier - then again, she was on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm when she'd used his first name.

"Whatever," he mumbled, "Can we go, professor?"  
>"Not so fast."<p>

Snape got on his feet and took their bouquets, carefully examining them.

"P-professor," Hermione shyly asked, "We wondered... how is it possible for that tree to blossom like that in the middle of winter?"  
>"It's enchanted," Severus replied, matter-of-factly.<br>"But why?"  
>"Granger," Malfoy groaned next to her.<br>"Winter hawthorn flowers," Snape started as he put down a bouquet and started inspecting the other, "Are the rarest and most important ingredient of the Amortentia."

The potion master dug his gaze into his student's.

"You do know what this potion is for, don't you Miss Granger?"  
>"Desperate women," Draco mumbled, but both Hermione and Snape ignored him.<br>"It's a love potion," she replied.  
>"Exactly. These flowers are the ingredient taking away the inhibitions of the person drinking the Amortentia, thus this person will really do <em>anything<em> his or her desire asks."

Random flashes of Draco and her making love in the snow came back to the surface, only for a brief second, and Hermione slightly blushed, taking her eyes off Snape's tiny, piercking black eyes.

"These two bouquets are perfect, just what I needed. Go to sleep now. Straight to your dormitories, both of you."

Snape sat behind his desk for a short while, staring at the bouquets - one of which was far from perfect, but this detention had never been about the flowers. The head of Slytherin got on his feet and left his office. 

* * *

><p>"Well, Severus," Dumbledore said, "This isn't like you at all. What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until the morning?"<br>"I am sorry to bother you, but-"  
>"Oh, you are not bothering me at all," the headmaster lightly replied.<p>

He sat behind his desk, not remotely embarrassed by the fact that he was wearing his pajamas and his long white hair was a mess.

"I was simly asking. It's not like you to rush like this."  
>"I found them."<br>"Found 'them'? Who's 'them', exactly?"  
>"The two people Trelawney mentioned, those who are supposed to give birth to the prophetic child."<p>

Snape slowly breathed in.

"Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger."  
>"Really? But... oh..."<p>

Dumbledore's gaze became empty as he compared them to the prophecy made on Christmas Eve.

"The iron of his eyes and the amber of her hair... two enemy houses... and..."  
>"And Mr. Malfoy is a Pureblood, therefore an <em>old<em> wizard - Miss Granger, on the other hand, is Muggle-born, therefore, a _new_ witch. I didn't realise how much it fitted them until I saw them in class after the holidays. Everything she had said fitted perfectly."  
>"Except they have to be lovers, at least once, and under the full moon ontop of that - and that, Severus..."<br>"The moon was full tonight," Snape flatly said.  
>"Severus, you didn't-"<p>

A corner of Snape's lips lifted very lightly, almost forming a smile.

"Gave fate the help it needed? A little."  
>"Fate normally doesn't need help," Dumbledore wisely said.<br>"It most certainly does in the situation we're in, Albus. Besides, what's done s done."  
>"How can you be sure?"<br>"They both might be brilliant, they still don't have a clue about Occlumency."

He shook his head.

"We shouldn't even be discussing that matter," he said, almost reproachfully. "What we need to do now is work on what we failed to do with the Potters..."

He stared at Dumbledore.

"Protect them from the Dark Lord."

**End of the chapter:** Snape, you scheming bastard XD


	5. I waited for you

**Chapter 5: I waited for you  
><strong>

"Mione," Ron said as soon as she stepped in the common room. "Harry, man, wake up, she's back."  
>"Uh..."<p>

Hermione was shocked - it was extremely late now, they all had class tomorrow, she couldn't believe her friends had stayed up all this time, waiting for her to come back.

"Oh hello there Hermione."  
>"You guys didn't sleep?" she asked, frozen at the entrance of the room.<br>"Harry did," Ron noted reproachfully.  
>"Barely," the Seeker mumbled.<br>"Whatever. Well, no, I - _we_ - didn't sleep, we were watching the coin."

She flushed as she sat next to them - after what had just happen between Malfoy and herself, she didn't feel she deserved that they stayed up half of the night.

"Oh, b-but you guys shouldn't have, I told you I'd be fine!"  
>"Never trust a ferret," Ron yawned. "How did it go?"<p>

_It went wrong. It went awfully wrong_.

"Rather smoothly," she managed to reply. "It was just gathering some flowers, we've seen worse."  
>"Yeah, I mean we did have Umbridge," Harry said. "And a three-headed dog. And Death Eaters. And Dementors. And-"<br>"I get it, I get it," Ron sighed. "I just thought something ought to go wrong with Malfoy."

_All right, all right! I had sex with him now can we PLEASE get over it?_

"Well nothing did! Sure some Mudbloods here and there, but who cares at this point?"  
>"Mmh. I just had a bad feeling about this, looks like I was wrong. Especially since it was quite long for just collecting flowers."<br>"Had to be super careful I guess," Harry suggested, "Snape would probably have blown a fuse if something about the flowers wasn't perfect."

Hermione breathed more freely. _Harry, I love you_.

"Exactly. Even Malfoy paid attention, none of us wanted to be forced to go back in there! Now come on, how about we all get a good four hours of sleep, uh?"

* * *

><p>"I stand among the purest," Draco said in front of what seemed to be an empty wall.<p>

The wall slowly flipped open, allowing him to enter his common room.

"Dray!"

Pansy jumped from the couch she had been sitting on to hug him. He hugged her back, though not as tightly as she did.

"You should've slept," he said, "I told you it could be long."  
>"But I couldn't sleep knowing you were alone in the forest with that stupid Mudblood!"<br>"Why not?"  
>"Because," Pansy replied, "You never know with people like that!"<br>"You never know _what?_" he asked, rather amused.

Really, he'd had sex with about half the girls in their year, she _knew_it and yet she was worried about him being alone with the girl he was the least likely to sleep with?

"What they have in mind!"

Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Honestly, you think I'd fuck a Mudblood?"  
>"She probably wish you would," Pansy teased, her fingers wandering on his belt. "My sexy Drackie..."<p>

The prefect slowly shook his head and brought her closer. It was odd, how he felt about Pansy. He didn't really love her, and she probably guessed it - though she was madly in love with him. However, he didn't hate her, either, even when she called him Drackie in front of a bunch of classmates and a professor. He'd known her since they were little kids: their families had been friends for a long, long time. They had been friends for such a long time, actually, that when Narcissa Malfoy gave birth to a boy, only a couple of months after Demetra Parkinson had a little girl, it was only natural for the four parents to plan that their children would one day get married together.

Well, it was natural from a traditional Pureblood point of view, of course, not for most people.

Draco had grown up knowing that when he'd get old enough to marry someone, then it would most likely be Pansy, unless she ended up doing something that made her unworthy of marrying a Malfoy - which she hadn't. As children they had been friends - as they had grown older, some benefits had appeared.

Pansy tilted her head back, clearly asking for a kiss - which Draco didn't refuse, and he leaned in to merge their lips together.

The first time they had sex together - and the first time they had sex at all - was after the Yule Ball in their fourth year. She was fifteen back then and he was fourteen: some people might think that they were too young, but really, when you've known someone ever since before you could walk or speak, when you were told you would marry this person as soon as you could comprehend what a marriage was, then it wasn't too young at all.

What he was too young for, though, was limiting himself to only one person, one experience, so they'd made a pact that until the day they actually got married, they could sleep with other people. He was too young to already be tied up to her, for Merlin's sake. While he wasn't quite sure whether or not she had taken advantage of her freedom, Draco was pretty sure she hadn't, and pretty sure she had accepted only because she knew she'd have him for herself only in the end. Why would she be jealous of these other girls he had sex with after all? She knew she'd win. She was the one who was going to become Mrs. Malfoy, not _them_.

Smirking in their kiss, she lightly pushed him on the leather couch, sitting on his lap: Draco let his fingers run on her smooth legs, higher and higher, until they ventured under her skirt. He touched her through the silky fabric of her underwear, and he felt her breath getting heavier on the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Dray," she purred to his ear, moving her hips to meet with his hand.

Draco mentally smirked for himself. It was almost too easy: he knew Pansy by heart, it was as though he was a pianist and she was his very first piano, the one he'd learned music with. He knew which buttons to press, what she liked, what she didn't like, what she hated, what she'd kill and beg for: he knew how her body reacted to everything. A brief pleasured groan left his throat when Pansy decided to touch him back, because it worked both ways: she, too, knew which buttons to press.

"Fuck, Pansy," he whispered.  
>"Gladly," she murmured back to his ear, unzipping his pants.<p>

_That's not actually what I meant_. Draco threw his head back and grabbed her hips. _But I'll take it anyway_. She started to move, slowly at first, causing their breaths to get heavier, then faster, causing waves of pleasure to go through his whole body and soft moans to escape her lips.

This was the best part of it for Draco. To see the girl - whether it was Pansy or another - having fun. To hear her fast breath and pleasured moans, to feel her body getting more tense, to see her back arch, but more importantly... her face as she was about to cum. A brief, orgasmic whimper left Pansy's opened mouth, and she gasped for air, spreading her legs, curling her toes, digging her fingers into his hair, and then she hid her face in his neck. One last, tiny move of her hips pushed him over the edge as well, and Draco held her very tightly, pressing her delicate body against his chest: he could feel every little move, every spasm, every breath. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment.

"Honey, that was great," she cooed.

So, he would probably have to spend his whole marital life being called Drackie, Dray, sugar, and all sort of stupid candies, but at least, his sex life as a married man was promising.

"You son of a bitch," Zabini groaned as soon as he stepped in the dormitory. "I should've known it was you down there."  
>"Uh?"<p>

The room was too dark for Draco to dodge the pillow that his friend threw heavily at him - not to mention, he was quite exhausted.

"Every. Damn. Time. I swear to Merlin. Every _fucking_ time I hear someone fucking in this blasted common room at night, it's_ you_. Except that time Goyle nailed Milicent, which was probably the number one gross thing to happen to my ears, ever."

Draco sneered, throwing back the pillow on Blaise.

"Your fault. You took the bed closest to the door."  
>"As if I knew, when I was eleven, that I'd end up getting disturbed three nights per week!"<br>"What can I say," Draco mocked him, "Sleep deeper, man."  
>"And I can't believe Pansy's just letting you fuck whoever, I mean Daphne would have me dead if I so much as <em>thought<em>about cheating on her."

Draco shrugged, taking off his shirt.

"That _was_ Pansy I just had sex with."  
>"That wasn't my point, she still lets you."<br>"Because Daphne feels competition, she might lose you if you fucked around. How in hell is Pansy going to lose me when our parents had us married from the start?"

Zabini remained silent for a while.

"Probably. But keep it fucking down next time."

The blond chuckled.

"What can I say, I'm that good. Ow!" he said, receiving a book right behind the head.  
>"Son of a bitch," Blaise repeated, rolling over in his bed.<p>

Draco smirked and laid in his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

**End of the chapter:** So, as you can see, I've tried to imagine something between Draco and Pansy (even though the story is STILL Dramione), like, we know in the book that they're in a relationship, but I tried to imagine how the relationship in question would work. Most fanfics show Pansy drooling all over Draco and Draco not giving a shit about her or even plain hating her, I think that's just wrong... but that might just be me ^^ feel free to review, to tell me what you like and don't like! I wanna feel teh luv but I can also take teh hatz if there's teh hatz!


	6. The Project

**Chapter 6: The Project**

Slowly days went by. Nobody seemed to have noticed anything, neither Hermione's friends nor Draco's. Granted, two of the closest people to Draco Malfoy happened to be two of the dumbest people in the entire school, but _still._Blaise and Pansy were both quite sharp, and hadn't asked a single question about the forest - and why would they? Both Hermione and Draco were doing a prodigious job at acting like they had always done. Draco still sneered whenever Hermione gave a more-than-perfect answer in class. Hermione still told him to shut the hell up when he insulted Harry or Ron.

It had been almost two weeks since that night, when one Monday morning, during breakfast, Dumbledore got on his feet, lightly taping his golden cup with his wand to get everyone's attention.

"Dear students, good morning," he said kindly. "If you are not in sixth year, you are free to stop listening to me right now. If, however, you are in sixth year, then please _do_listen. I would like everybody to join me in the Trophy Room, right behind our table, as soon as you are done eating. it is a very important matter and I expect everyone to understand."

Without saying more, he sat back on his chair.

"I wonder what the hell this is for," Harry commented. "Why only sixth years?"  
>"Go figure," Ron replied. "Wait, that means we're going to be late in potions, on Dumbledore's order?"<p>

Ron raised his hands to the sky.

"Merlin bless that man."  
>"I wouldn't get my hopes too high if I were you," Hermione said. "If it's sixth years only, it must have something to do with our NEWTs next year."<p>

The prefect boy sighed.

"You had to - you just _had_ to ruin my moment, didn't you?"  
>"Sorry she broke your illusions, but she's probably right," Harry noted. "Well, shall we go?"<br>"I'm not done eating!" Ron protested.

About fifteen minutes later, every sixth year student was standing in the middle of the Trophy room: Dumbledore entered the room, followed by McGonagall and Snape.

"Blimey," Ron whispered, "Just when I thought I'd avoid the snake a little."  
>"Well if he's here, it sure as heck isn't something fun Dumbledore has to say," Harry whispered back.<br>"Thank you for coming," Dumbledore started, "I know you all have a lot to do, and I would like to start this meeting by telling you that all your classes are suspended for today."

He smiled.

"I believe this should put you in good disposition for the rest of what I have to say."  
>"That should make you happy, Ron," Harry's low voice said in Hermione's back.<br>"Happy? Are you mad? I'm _terrified!_ Imagine what he has to tell us to suspend classes for a full day!"  
>"Recently, it has come to the Ministry's attention that wizards and witches are rushing into very important and serious things, and they do so younger and younger these days. They rush into marriage, they rush into having children. This is, of course, due to the current climate. Who knows what is going to happen tomorrow? However, the Ministry believes - and I agree, for once - that this is not something we wish for. Having a child and getting married are both very, very serious matter, and it shouldn't be taken so lightly."<p>

"Bloody hell, a morale lesson," Ron muttered. "Soon he'll tell us how important the Intimate Protection Charm is, watch this-"

"Weasley," Snape's voice snapped, "Would you listen in silence for _once?_"  
>"For this reason," Dumbledore continued as though there had been no interruption whatsoever, "The Ministry had an idea to which I decided to agree. You are all going to have children."<p>

He lifted his right hand as soon as protestations raised into the room, but that didn't change anything.

"Are you mad?"  
>"What the HELL?"<br>"That's it, he's out of his damn mind."  
>"You have no right of doing this!"<br>"QUIET!" McGonagall barked.

And everybody stopped complaining at once.

"Now let me explain how this will go," Dumbledore said very calmly. "You will be randomly put into couples. As couples, you will live together in a small neighbourhood created for this purpose. You will still have classes, of course, but you live in your house, you sleep in your house, you eat in your house, like an actual couple. This is also where we will raise your newborn baby."  
>"We're not actually <em>making<em> the babies are we?" Ron nervously asked. "I-I mean-"  
>"Don't worry Weasley, we know you're completely clueless," Malfoy sneered.<p>

The Slytherin chuckled.

"Of _course_ you aren't making the babies," the headmaster replied. "The girls will be given a potion that will make them pregnant."  
>"No freaking way I'm drinking this!" Pansy's high voice raised. "You can't force me to have a baby with whoever you want! My parents-"<br>"Your parents have agreed to this like everybody's parents," Snape coldly said. "Just so you know."  
>"Surely some parents have posed some <em>conditions?<em>" Draco insisted.  
>"Like what, to put you in pair with someone as dense as you?" Ron asked. "I'm sure this can be worked through."<br>"No, like making couples that make sense."  
>"Meaning?" Lavender Brown asked.<br>"Meaning, like hell I'm having a child with somebody that isn't Pureblood! For _centuries_ my family has remained pure!"  
>"Oh Malfoy just shut the hell up," Harry groaned. "We don't actually care about how long it's been since your family started being a bunch of biggots."<br>"In case some of you are confused," Dumbledore interrupted, "These aren't going to be _real_ children. This is simply a homework: the pregnancy will feel real, the babies will look real, but none of you are going to give birth to an actual baby. At the end of your seventh year, those artificial babies will vanish. This will show you how many responsabilities and how much work having a child and getting married brings, so that maybe, you don't make that mistake. So I want everybody to put their name on a paper, and put it in that box. Once everybody is done, I will start announcing the couples. Once you are announced, we will proceed to the room right behind me, where the potion will be given to you."

"This is gonna be ugly," Ron mumbled as he tore a piece of parchment to write his name. "Really, really ugly. If I'm with Parkinson, I swear to Merlin, shit is gonna hit the fan."  
>"Lovely," Hermione commented.<p>

"Really Ron, she isn't that terrible. Sure, she's Malfoy's girlfriend but come on, she's nothing like Milicent, you know."

Once everybody's name was in the wooden box, Dumbledore started moving his wand slowly ontop of the box, in careful circular motions, as though he was brewing a potion.

"Our first couple..."

Two papers got out the box, floating in the air right before his eyes.

"Pansy Parkinson..."  
>"Please let it not be me, please let it not be me..." Ron prayed in Hermione's back. "I'll do anything, I'll never ask Hermione to do my homework ever again, I'll-"<br>"And Harry Potter."  
>"Oh fuck me," Harry sighed as Ron litterally exploded from laughing too hard.<br>"Don't worry," Ron said, lightly taping his shoulder. "_You_ said she wasn't that terrible!"

Harry shot his friend a deadly glare before following the teachers to the backroom with Pansy. Sure, he had said she wasn't too bad, but it had been only because he wanted Ron to stop complaining about it. Pansy was so much like Draco Malfoy that it would be like dating a girl version of the Slytherin Seeker. It was a rather small room, with a big silver cauldron filled with a transparent, but somewhat thick, boiling potion. Snape poured a bit of the potion in a glass, then, without warning, picked a hair from Harry's head.

"Ow!" Harry complained, leering at the teacher.

Snape simply dropped the hair in the potion, which immediatly turned deep green.

"Miss Parkinson," he said, "You too."

When Pansy did nothing but glare at him with her arms crossed, he sighed and picked the hair himself, like he had done with Harry.

"OW!"  
>"Severus," Albus sighed.<br>"Well, we don't exactly have all day, Albus."

He dropped her long, dark hair in the potion, and it turned light purple.

"Now, drink this."  
>"No."<br>"Miss Parkinson."  
>"I'm not doing it!" she said, "I told you I wasn't going to drink that bloody potion!"<br>"You don't exactly have a choice," McGonagall interrupted.  
>"I'll do it if I'm with Draco - put me in pair with him and I'll do it, but I'm not getting pregnant with <em>Potter's<em> fake baby!"  
>"Parkinson, just drink it and be done with it, I'm not exactly exalted either."<br>"Be done? BE DONE? It's just the _beginning_ you twat!"  
>"You are <em>not<em> choosing your partner, Miss Parkinson," the headmaster calmly but firmly said. "It wouldn't be fair if some people could choose and others couldn't."  
>"Then I'm not doing it, period."<br>"Unless you don't care about not getting your NEWTs and not graduating from Hogwarts, I don't recommend it," Snape said. "_Period_."

Pansy groaned and reluctantly took the potion.

"I really hate you all right now," she said before finally drinking the potion.

Her otherwise pretty face - if Harry was being really, really honest with himself, Pansy was far from ugly - briefly twisted in a grimace as she swallowed.

"Good," Dumbledore said, "Now let's proceed to the others."

When Harry got back to Hermione and Ron in the other room, Ron was _still_ laughing.

"Oh man I can't believe it..."  
>"What took so long?" Hermione asked.<br>"Parkinson did," Harry. "She made a fuss about drinking the potion - Ron for the love of Merlin, stop laughing!"  
>"<em>You<em> with _her,_ that's going to be epic."  
>"Shut up or you'll get worse!"<br>"What could _possibly_ be worse?"  
>"Ronald Weasley," Dumbledore said.<br>"Yes?"

And then he realised that the headmaster had said his name only because it had left the wooden box, along with another, and his face turned deep red.

"And Lavender Brown."

Relieved, Ron sighed and breathed more freely.

"Well, that sure is a lot better than you, Harry."  
>"Shove it," Harry mumbled when his friend and Lavender followed the teachers in the other room. "What are you smirking about?" he asked Hermione.<br>"Ron thinks Lavender will be easy to handle," she whispered. "He truly is clueless."  
>"What do you mean? Lavender is nice."<br>"She is, but I know her, I share my dormitory with her, remember? She's so fluffy-girly, I'm sure she actually likes this project. She'll drive him mad before Pansy drives you mad."  
>"That is wonderful!" Lavender said upon getting out the room about thirty seconds after. "I'm so glad I'm with you and not a Slytherin... really, I'm so excited - I hope it's a girl!"<p>

Ron blinked as he stopped right were he was, in the middle of the place.

"A-a girl? Why on Earth-"  
>"Yes! I'll give her cute dresses and I'll make her hair pretty with cute little pigtails and I'll-"<br>"Blimey, Lavender," Ron sighed as they reached the other Gryffindors, "Calm down, it's not even real. Besides, we're talking about a baby, not a doll."  
>"I'm pregnant, can you believe that? I <em>feel<em> pregnant."  
>"Bloody hell, Lavender, of course you're pregnant, you just took the potion-"<p>

Hermione arched an eyebrow for Harry. "I told you, didn't I?" her eyes said.

"Blaise Zabini," Dumbledore announced.  
>"Mark my words, Daphne is gonna have my balls if it's a girl that's remotely cute," Zabina complained to Draco's ear.<br>"Mmh," Draco said, merely acknowledging his words.  
>"And Daphne Greengrass!"<br>"HA! I'm saved."  
>"Now that's bullshit," Malfoy commented.<br>"But you're already together in real life!" Pansy complained. "_PROFESSOR!_"  
>"It's random, Miss Parkinson," Dumbledore said very patiently. "Miss Greengrass, Mr. Zabini, if you would."<p>

About one minute later, the two Slytherins came back in the Trophy room.

"It's so gross," Daphne grimaced at Pansy. "What the hell's in that potion?"  
>"You have no right to complain, at least yours didn't have a hair from Potter in it!" her friend groaned.<br>"Touché," Daphne admitted.

Progressively, the students were put in couples: some that were surprising, like Neville Longbottom and Pavarti Patil, others that were just plain weird, like Padma Patil and Vincent Crabbe, until...

"Hermione Granger," the headmaster called. "And Draco Malfoy."

No. No. No. Nonononononononono. _No_. The only boy she didn't want to get paired with. Really, the only, she'd take Zabini or Goyle over him. If she had to, she'd take a lesbian relationship with Pansy Parkinson over Draco Malfoy!

"Are you kidding? Are you kidding me?" Pansy protested. "You can't put _them_ together!"  
>"Miss Parkinson, stop comp-"<br>"She's right," Daphne said, "You can't do that, he'll kill her. Literally."  
>"Excuse me," Ron said, "<em>He'll<em> kill her? Really? Scratch that, _she'll_ kill him!"  
>"Quiet!" McGonagall barked for the second time of the day. "Nobody is going to kill anyone. Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, follow us."<p>

Bearing every single trait of two people walking to their death, both of them followed the teachers.

"First of all," Draco started as soon as the door closed, "I would like to point out that my father with hear about this, and, to put it simply and clearly, if you make me do it, he's going to have your freaking asses. All of you."  
>"I'm afraid your father will have no power over this," Dumbledore simply answered. "Have a seat, please."<br>"Your father doesn't have much power nowadays," Hermione mumbled, sitting down on her chair.  
>"Excuse me?" Draco spat.<br>"I said your father doesn't have much power nowadays," Hermione repeated, glaring at him in defiance. "And he actually has no power whatsoever over Hogwarts. Now quit being a cry baby for once and sit down, ferret."

Glaring back at her, Draco dropped on his chair, arms crossed, his jaw very tense.

"Why do we need to sit?" he protested, "Just give her the blasted potion."  
>"Ah, but that's the point of having you sit down, Mr. Malfoy," the headmaster quietly said. "There will be no potion for you."<p>

With a swift motion of his wand, he lifted the cauldron of potion in the air, carefully levitating it towards an empty spot on the floor. Another switft motion opened an old cabinet behind him, and a bowl of carved stone floated in the air before it landed delicately on the desk between the students and their professors.

"Does any of you know what this is?" he asked.  
>"It's a Pensieve," Draco snapped before Hermione could open her mouth. "So?"<br>"_So_, you're about to witness a memory that concerns you very much," Snape said, speaking for the first time, "Change your attitude."

Hermione blinked. It was the first time in her scolarity that she saw Snape telling something negative to Draco Malfoy.

"This memory," Dumbledore said, as he brewed the liquid in the Pensieve, "Is mine. It happened on Christmas Eve, please pay attention."

While Draco was only further annoyed by Dumbledore's words, Hermione looked very carefully at the Pensieve, and she gasped in surprise when a form emerged from the liquid.

**End of the chapter:** OMGWTFBBQ. Right? Please feel free to give me feedbacks, I'm an author, thus a nice review makes my day!


	7. The Pensieve

**Chapter 7: The Pensieve**

Hermione's face, however, took an annoyed expression similar to Draco's when she recognized the person the Pensieve was showing her.

"Oh _please_," she sighed, "I abandoned her class for a reason, professor."

Dumbledore smiled softly.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I know you don't quite believe in Divination, but please, listen to her. It might change your mind."

With his wand, he taped the Pensieve very lightly, and Trelawney spoke:

"When the moon is full, the wise becomes a fool. Opposites shall attract, enemies shall become lovers, amber will meet iron under the silver light... the Chosen One will merely be a decoy for the true saviour... alabaster skin and purity together, new witch and old wizard, both will lead to the downfall of the Lord, if allowed to love even once... a mere child will be His demise yet again, in the castle of knowledge... this is the miracle we are waiting for."

There was a silence.

"That's it?" Draco scowled. "How does that concern_ me?_ Besides, professor Trelawney keeps rambling random predictions. You know, if she was _actually_ a Seer, everyone who took divination in our year would be dead by now, because she predicted violent and near death to each and every one of us. How can you even take her seriously?"  
>"The thing is," Dumbledore said, "She has spoken the truth once before, and the way she spoke that day was just like Christmas Eve. It has nothing to do with how she predicts that every student is going to die or to receive terrible news. <em>This<em> is real."  
>"She did the prophecy..." Hermione started, hesitantly.<br>"The prophecy about Harry and Lord Voldemort, yes."

There was a heavy silence. Hermione's eyes lingered on the cauldron.

"You said we needed no potion," she said, her mouth becoming dry. "Those two people... it's _us,_ isn't it? It's Malfoy and I?"  
>"Don't be ridiculous, Granger," Draco sneered, "I know you dream about it but it's not happening."<p>

"I don't _dream_ about it, you selfish prick!"

Snape shook his head.

"So you say it is not possible that Miss Granger could be actually pregnant with your baby? Not possible... _at all?_"  
>"No."<br>"Really?" the teacher insisted, arching an eyebrow.

They looked at each others in the eyes for a long moment, until Draco realised.

He knew. The bastard_ knew_. There was no denying it. Draco kept his jaw clenched: he didn't say a word, but that silence was as loud clear as though he had yelled it.

_Using Occlumency on me. I'll make you pay_.

"Get over yourself!" Hermione scowled, "Seriously Malfoy, can't you see that this is bigger and more important than your biggotry? If we're _really_ the parents then-"  
>"We're not!" Draco growled, "Just because we had sex <em>once<em> doesn't mean you're suddenly going to give birth to the next Potter! Open your damn eyes Granger, she said old wizard, do I look old to you? Face it, you're having a child with your grandfather."  
>"But you're a Pure Blood!" the prefect girl exploded, "You're part of one of the <em>oldest<em> magical family! And I'm... I'm Muggle-born, therefore..."

She stopped in the middle of her sentence as the words were sinking into her mind, making her almost dizzy. _I'm Muggle-born, therefore I'm a new witch_. She was pregnant, which was a shocking information in itself, especially considering she was pregnant with Draco Malfoy's child, but the prophecy... her mouth became dry. She didn't want to believe it, she despised Divination, but there was no denying it. The people involved in Trelawney's last prophecy had been affected greatly, to say the least: the Potters had died to the hand of Lord Voldemort, leaving Harry to grow up as an orphan. She had spoken the truth before. She could speak the truth, no matter how crazy she seemed.

"We're just like them," she said, "A Pure Blood and a Muggle-born."  
>"Yes, an interesting coincidence," McGonagall noted. "The most important thing is that we intend to not let you and Mr. Malfoy end as tragically as James and Lily. If he hears the prophecy, and in those times we must assume that he will, he will not give that child the occasion to ever be born. He has done that mistake once, he won't do it again, and this is why the three of us came up with the idea of this project. Should Voldemort ever learn about the prophecy, he would understand that it is to happen here, in Hogwarts, and he'd probably try and put a stop to it - but with all the sixth year girls pregnant, the mother of the prophecy - namely, you - doesn't stand out."<br>"As far as everybody is concerned," Dumbledore said, "Including your closest friends, including your families - you two are part of the project. Do not betray anything."

When Hermione went back to her friends, Lavender was still completely excited.

"This is wonderful - Hermione, what colour was the potion for you?"

Hermione blinked, taken aback. The potion was transparent, was it supposed to change at some point?

"It was light pink when Snape put my hair in it," Lavender continued, "Then he put Ron's hair and it was dark pink, oh my, I'm sure I'm having a girl!"

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"It turned purple with Parkinson's hair, I doubt I'm having twins."

Hermione shrugged.

"It was green, go figure. We'll know what it means later, if it means anything at all."  
>"Oh, for the love of Merlin guys, show some enthusiasm!" Lavender pleaded, "This is fun!"<br>"Speak for yourself, you're with Ron," Harry said. "I'm stuck with Parkinson and Hermione's with Malfoy. That's going to be a terrible experience."  
>"Pansy's not so bad when you get to know her a little, and Malfoy, well-"<p>

Her eyes widened.

"Imagine how pretty the baby will be if it's a girl!"  
>"Lavender," Ron sighed.<br>"What? Hermione's good looking, Malfoy's handsome, try to imagine a little girl with Hermione's looks but Malfoy's blond hair and grey eyes, oh my..."  
>"Help me," Ron pleaded to Harry, "My wife's in love with Draco Malfoy!"<br>"Can't help you there," Harry simply replied, glancing at Pansy and Draco.

Once the couples were all made, the students were told to gather their belongings in their dormitories, then meet with the teachers in the Great Hall. Hermione was extremely reluctant to living with Draco, and you couldn't really blame her. Having his child was one thing, being forced to spend time alone with him was another story. Well the good point was she would be further away from Lavender.

"It's so great," she said as they all put their clothes in their luggage. "I'm loving this project, don't you?"  
>"I guess it's all right," Pavarti replied, "I'm with Neville, so as long as he doesn't drop the baby on the floor we should be ok."<br>"I'm with Malfoy," Hermione sighed, "So I guess it will be all right as long as neither of us murders the other, which is unlikely."

She rubbed her forehead. A strong headache was coming, she could already feel it - and Lavender wasn't helping.

"I think I'm beginning to show," Lavender said, her hands touching her flat stomach as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Hermione mentally groaned. Really, how stupidly over-the-top could she get?

"Lav, honey," Pavarti said, "You've been pregnant for like, an hour at most. We can't see it yet."  
>"I mean, pregnant women have this glowing thing, you know, like an aura around them, I think I have it already - I look so radiant!"<p>

_Oh, what the fuck, really_. Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course she was radiant, but that had nothing to do with pregnancy, she was only radiant because she somehow thought it was a great idea Dumbledore had and they would have so much fun.

"Mark my words, Ron," she said upon getting in the common room where her two friends waited. "Lavender is going to drive you nuts."  
>"That can't be that terrible," Harry said.<p>

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Apparently, she's beginning to _show._ Not the stomach, but the radiant aura."  
>"Radiant aura?" Ron repeated, panicked. "What aura?"<br>"Don't ask me," Harry replied. "I just hope that Parkinson doesn't start freaking me out with that kind of stuff."

They were about to leave when Lavender and Pavarti walked down the stairs.

"Oh Ronnie," Lavender pouted, "My luggage is heavy, would you mind-?"

He blinked.

"Would I mind what?"  
>"Carrying it for me, you silly!"<br>"I-I... but... my luggage's heavy too, thank you very much! Handle your stuff, I'll handle mine."  
>"But it's not good to make such an effort in my condition-"<br>"What condition?" Ron asked, glancing nervously at his friends.  
>"<em>Pregnancy,<em> of course!"  
>"Blimey, Lavender, don't be ridiculous, if it wasn't a potion, you wouldn't even know about it at this point!"<br>"Lav," Pavarti kindly said, "He's kinda right. Don't you think you're overdoing it a little?"  
>"I'm not overdoing it," Lavender replied, "I am responsible for a <em>life<em> you know!"

That was too much for Hermione. She quickly glanced at Harry, and both left in silence, leaving Ron and Lavender to argue in the middle of the common room.

"I take it back," Harry said as soon as the Fat Lady's portrait closed behind them. "Parkinson's not that worse, really."

* * *

>A couple of minutes later, Pavarti, Lavender and Ron finally made it to the Great Hall. Apparently, Lavender's arguments had been in vain, as she was carrying her luggage herself. She seemed, however, prettty mad at Ron. Once they were sure everyone had made it to the Great Hall, Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall led the students through the corridors.<p>"Strange," Hermione noted, "I figured we'd leave the castle."<br>"Yeah, me too," Ron said, "I thought they said a neighbourhood had been made for us. I thought we were gonna go to Hogsmeade or something."  
>"Don't be silly," she replied, "Hogsmeade's crawling with Death Eaters."<br>"Hey," Harry said, "Isn't it the way to-"  
>"Bloody hell, it's the Room of Requirement," Ron whispered.<p>

The professors stopped in front of a wall.

"Whenever you want to go home," Dumbledore said, "Simply think 'Sunshine Lane' three times in front of that wall. Like this..."

About five seconds later, a door magically appeared in front of them: Dumbledore opened it for the students to enter.

"Oh it's so cute!" Lavender squealed.

As much as she was annoying her that day, Hermione found it hard to disagree: before them stood very beautiful cottages. The sun was shining bright upon their heads, warming their skins nicely. The grass was green in front of each cottage, and the cottages were all set around a very beautiful park.

"Welcome to your new homes," McGonagall announced with a faint smile.  
>"Each cottage bears two names on its frontdoor," Dumbledore said. "Find yours with your partner, and make yourselves comfortable. As I said, your classes are suspended for today."<p>

_Make yourselves comfortable_. Hermione always did as her teachers said, but this would be hard to do. Sighing, she started searching for her cottage: her search didn't take too long, as she and Draco had been given one of the closest to the entrance.

"Cool," Lavender giggled, "Hermione, Ron and I are living just next door!"  
>"Terrific," Hermione replied. "Just... terrific."<p>

She left a speechless Lavender behind her as she entered her cottage. The living room was warm and welcoming: as she went further into the house, she saw a very cozy little kitchen, and a dinning room that was simple yet elegant. Down a short hallway stood three doors: behind the first one, Hermione found a rather spacious bathroom with a tub that looked like a smaller version of the huge one used by prefects. Behind the second door, there was a completely empty room with white walls: Hermione figured it was meant to be the baby's room.

_Wait._

There was only one door left. Surely the teachers didn't push that so-called assignement far enough to have students share a bed? As her mouth became dry, she heard Malfoy's footsteps behind her.

"Oh look Granger," Draco said upon seeing the empty room, "They finally figured you belong on the floor."

She glared at him.

"I can't believe you just said that."  
>"I've said worse."<br>"Context's different," she said, walking to the last door. "I can't believe you just suggested that the girl carrying your baby should sleep on the floor like an animal."  
>"That would be outrageous only if I cared. Besides, it's not mine."<br>"You really are..."

She paused, her hand on the handle.

"You really are an asshole, you know that? And what do you mean, it's not yours? Of course i-"  
>"It's not."<p>

Hermione shook her head and opened the door. _Bastard. _She mentally sighed with relief when she saw two beds in the room.

"Looks like they didn't forget my bed after all, Malfoy."  
>"Shared bedroom?" he scowled. "Fuck me."<p>

Hermione refrained a smirk. _Been there, done that, don't you remember?_

**End of the chapter**: Internet's being a bitch and I (super randomly) couldn't upload, so you get chapter 6 and 7 together! Me wantz reviews!


	8. Running away

**Chapter 8: Running away**

"HERMIONE!" Ron shouted from the living room. "HELP!"

Hermione quickly headed there: Ron was standing behind her couch, looking absolutely panicked.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked.  
>"Lavender's the matter! Protect me!"<br>"What happened?"  
>"S-she wants to decorate the baby's room! Like, right <em>now!<em> She's _crazy!_ And she wants to talk about baby names and I think she mentionned something about shopping clothes - Merlin forbids I want to shop for a baby! Hermione, you gotta hide me!"  
>"Not having a happy relationship are we?" Draco snidely asked from behind Hermione's back.<br>"Knock it off, Malfoy," Hermione sighed.

He shrugged.

"I could care less. I'm off to Blaise's anyway."  
>"Son of a bitch," Ron mumbled as Malfoy left the cottage, looking at him through the window. "I can't believe you got stuck withEEK!"<p>

He stared at Hermione, begging her with his most pleading puppy eyes.

"Oh bloody hell here she comes! Save me!"

Before Hermione could speak, Ron duck behind the couch. She sighed, and went straight for the door when the blonde knocked. She smiled, trying to look natural.

"Oh hi Lavender," she casually said upon opening the wooden door, "What can I do for you?"  
>"Have you seen Ron? We decided to go shop for the baby but suddenly, he disappeared!"<br>"Really? Well he mustn't be too far away but I haven't seen him, I was barely starting to unpack my clothes."  
>"Dammit," Lavender said, but she didn't move. "I can't believe him, I thought he was happy to have that baby with me!"<p>

Hermione cleared her throat. She was really not in the mood to endure Lavender's whinning.

"Have you tried Harry's place? Maybe he's gone there to save him from Parkinson."  
>"No, I haven't - hey, good idea!"<p>

Lavender quickly left towards Harry and Pansy's cottage. Relieved, Hermione closed the door.

"It's all right," Hermione said, getting back in her living room. "She left, I told her to look for you at Harry's place."  
>"You're a blessing, Hermione. I am forever in your debt."<p>

She shook her head and smiled faintly. Ron was lucky she didn't take his word for it, or else he'd be in dept to her for a _freaking_lot.

"I get that a lot."

Ron sighed and dropped on the white sofa.

"She's driving me mad already. I didn't expect her to be so... erm... excited about it. I thought I'd be cool to be with another Gryffindor instead of a Slytherin, you know, but I almost wish I got Pansy! At least she wouldn't be trying to get me to shop for the baby."

Hermione shrugged.

"Do you really think that being told all day long how great and wonderful and smart and sexy and perfect Malfoy is, and how much she wishes she was with him instead of being with you would be better?"  
>"Not when you say it like that," he sighed dramatically. "But she's going to drive me crazy, I swear."<br>"You know that you can't hide from her forever now do you?" Hermione said, sitting next to him.  
>"I know, but I just hope she comes to her senses soon - she keeps saying<em> we're<em> pregnant. I was like, excuse me, we? What _we,_ exactly? I'm not pregnant, _she's_ pregnant!"  
>"I guess she wants you to be supportive," Hermione suggested. "You know, be there for her."<br>"But it's not even real!" he insisted.

Hermione mentally sighed, but gave her friend a comforting and understanding smile nonetheless.

"The point is, we're supposed to act like it is real. Try to be nice, reassure her. I know Lavender and trust me, this is actually all she wants."  
>"Perhaps."<p>

He rubbed his forehead.

"Bloody hell, I really am too young for that."

_So am I_, Hermione almost replied, but she bit her tongue in time.

* * *

><p>Blaise and Daphne's cottage was one of the furthest from Draco's: he entered without knocking. He looked around, noticing that the house was very much like the one he had to share with Hermione. Actually, only the colours were slightly different.<p>

"Oh Daphne, _look_," Zabini said as soon as he saw his friend. "Draco didn't stay home."  
>"Dammit," she sighed, reaching for something in her pockets.<br>"Told you."

Blaise stretched his arm, reaching for the ten Galleons she handed him. When Draco arched an eyebrow, his friend smirked.

"We made a bet. I said you'd get the fuck out as soon as you'd drop your bags, she said you two would fight all day long about everything. I knew you wouldn't be able to stand her for more than one minute."  
>"Thanks a lot, guys," Malfoy scowled.<p>

He sat on their couch, rubbing his nose. One hell of a headache was coming up, and who could blame him? Sure he'd been a jerk about it, but that didn't mean he wasn't shaken by what he had been told. It was easy to pretend it was all lies, it was even easy to pretend they hadn't had sex to begin with, but it wouldn't be that easy in a year or so, when everybody's baby would disappear and theirs would just stay there, because it wasn't _fake._One thing was for sure though: he didn't exactly intend to end up like James Potter. Actually, he wasn't planning on it at all. He wasn't marrying the Mudblood, for one, and, for another, if the situation was ever to arise, he wasn't going to die for a baby he didn't ask for.

_Fuck no_. He was too young to be a father and, furthermore, way, way too young to die.

"Did you stay long enough to, you know..."

Blaise cleared his throat, his lips pressed in an obvious effort to prevent himself from laughing.

"To see your bedroom's errr... decoration?"  
>"Yes," Draco growled, "I saw that there's only one fucking bedroom in the house, thank you very much for reminding me."<p>

Zabini smirked.

"How lucky, really."  
>"Speak for yourself, you're with Daphne."<br>"No, I mean it. Word has it that she's got a nice body under that Gryffindor tie. Maybe you'll see something you like."

_She sure does, and I sure did._Draco shook his head, pushing the thought away. Granger had done enough damage already.

"Hilarious, Blaise, just freaking hilarious."  
>"<em>Word<em> has it?" Daphne repeated, glaring at her boyfriend. "Whose word?"  
>"Certainly not mine," he snorted. "I wouldn't be caught dead even thinking about her, it's just some stuff I heard."<br>"Yeah well, if I ever catch you drooling over some fucking Mudblood-"  
>"Guys, guys," Draco sighed, "Shut up already. Tear each others apart another time, if I wanted to see some hair pulling and punches under the belt, I would've gone to Pansy and Potter's place."<p>

He shook his head and smirked.

"I wish we could swap or something, I'd much rather be with her. Fuck, she must be giving Potter hell."  
>"As opposed to be giving you heads," Zabini cunningly noted.<br>"Blaise!" Daphne said reproachfully.  
>"What?"<br>"Smartass," Draco mumbled. "But you don't know Pansy the way I do. If you think that Granger and I in the same house is going to mean trouble, and you're probably right, Pansy and Potter is going to be the end of the world."

Draco stayed with his friends for quite a while, even taking lunch with them: a couple of hours later he left, on his way to Pansy's cottage. He knocked and got no answer: frowning, he decided to take a chance and turned the handle, pushing the door carefully.

"I'm not your fucking servant!" he heard Pansy shouting as soon as he opened the door to their cottage, "If you wanna eat just cook it yourself!"  
>"Dammit, Parkinson, you're already cooking dinner, I was merely asking if you were making some from me, it's not that I <em>want<em> you to, I just _wondered_, I'm not trying to order you around-"  
>"Well you better not try!"<p>

Draco arched an eyebrow, heading towards the kitchen.

"You ever act even _slightly _wrong with me Potter, I'll tell Draco and you're gonna be in deep shit-"  
>"Like Malfoy's going to suddenly show up and defend you? Parkinson, you're the only one who can't see he doesn't give a damn-"<br>"Excuse me," Draco interrupted, finally stepping in the kitchen. "That's a lot of assumptions you're making, Potter. False assumptions ontop of that."  
>"Dray!"<p>

Pansy smiled, put down the bowl she was holding, and threw herself into his arms: Draco held her against him with his right arm. The look on Pansy's face as she stared at Harry was priceless: "victorious" didn't quite cover it. As a matter of fact, no word in the dictionnary could ever cover it.

"Oh, great," Harry groaned. "Just what I needed, the ferret to go with the pug, what are you doing here?"

Draco arched an eyebrow.

"If I want to see her, I sure as hell don't need _your_ permission, Potter."  
>"This happens to be <em>my<em>house, mind you," Harry protested, "And I abso-"

While the Gryffindor was speaking, Draco's hand had slowly made its way to the back of Pansy's neck: she tilted her head back a little, her fingers around his green and silver tie. It was unclear whether he had leaned in or she had pulled him closer, maybe both at the same time, but what was very clear to Harry's eyes was that they kissed. And it was not a peck-and-go kind of kiss. It was a lasting-forever-leaving-you-breathless-making-you-lose-grip-on-reality kind of kiss - heck, Harry was left breathless and he wasn't even involved! For that matter, that kind of kiss that looked highly inappropriate for someone as cold as Malfoy, especially since he usually turned Pansy down when they were in public. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to remind them that he was _still_in the kitchen, but the kiss only got deeper, more fierce, and Pansy even moaned against the prefect's mouth.

_Oh for the love of Merlin_, Harry mentally sighed, quickly left the room.

"I thought he'd never go," Pansy whispered to Draco's ear.  
>"Who said I was doing it to make him leave?" Draco chuckled, claiming her lips again.<p>

He pressed her body against the closest wall and she let go a pleasured whimper, wrapping her soft legs around his hips.

* * *

><p>It was almost midnight, and Hermione was desperately trying to sleep. Her surroundings weren't at fault: the bed was comfortable, and Malfoy wasn't even in the cottage to annoy her. She was also tired enough - both mentally and physically - but it seemed she would never be able to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw either Trelawney in the Pensieve, or Draco telling her it didn't matter whatsoever, or Dumbledore explaining them about the prophecy, or - and this was the worst - Draco and her in the forest. She groaned, rolling on her stomach, and she was almost relieved when someone knocked on the door, breaking the flow of her thoughts. She got on her feet and went to the door.<p>

"Harry?" she said in surprise when she saw her friend on the porche. "W-"  
>"I'm fucking traumatized," Harry quickly said.<p>

Without giving her the time to invite him inside, he entered the cottage.

"What?" Hermione asked, closing the door. "Did Parkinson force you to shop for the baby like Lavender did?"

It seemed highly unlikely that Pansy Parkinson would fuss over the baby project, as she had made it clear to everyone that she disagreed to be part of it unless she got paired with Draco, but right now, it was the only thing that Hermione could think about, especially after what had happened with Ron.

"Worse."  
>"Did she want to discuss names?"<br>"Worse," he replied, sitting on the couch.

Hermione frowned as she looked at him.

"Did she try to poison your food?"  
>"Wor- what?" he said, glancing up at her.<p>

His friend shrugged.

"I'm running out of options here, Harry. If she wasn't being like Lavender or didn't try to murder you, then I give up. I can't believe that you'd be coming here at this hour if this was just about Parkinson being her regular self, namely, a cow."  
>"No, of course not. But Malfoy came, and I mean that literally."<br>"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow.

For a split second, she feared - did Harry know? And if he did, how the heck had he learned it? Surely Malfoy wouldn't have told him, would he?

"He came over around dinner time! He fucked her in the kitchen, they took a bath together, which lasted forever, in MY bathroom, mind you, and then they went to the bedroom, which is also MY bedroom, mind you, and with the noises I was hearing, I sure as fuck hope they're not in my _bed!_ I tried to sleep on the couch but I can't because _they_aren't sleeping yet! How the fuck? The last thing I want to be aware of is Malfoy and Parkinson having sex, and what the bloody hell is up with this guy anyway?"

Hermione's eyebrow got higher, and a smirk curved her lips.

"From what you're telling me, I can only guess _what_ is up."  
>"It's inhuman!" Harry protested, as though he hadn't heard her. "He must be using a spell of some sort! Five times, Hermione, at least <em>five<em> fucking times! Why me? I'm sure they're doing it with the sole purpose of pissing me off!"  
>"It's a possibility," she conceeded. "But you can sleep here if you want."<br>"Thank you," Harry sighed, laying his head on the couch. "I'm exhausted. I love you, Hermione."  
>"Don't be silly," Hermione said, "Forget the couch, just take Malfoy's bed. It's not like he's coming back here tonight anyway."<p>

Harry got on his feet, hugging her tightly.

"I'm forever in your debt."  
>"I'm really getting that a lot lately," Hermione joked. "Come on, I'm tired too."<p>

She led him to the bedroom, and they both laid on their bed in silence. Hermione closed her eyes, and her hand fell on her stomach, where she knew a baby was growing.

It was there.

It was real.

This simple constatation, this simple acknowledgment twisted her stomach and brought tears to her eyes. Of all the guys she knew, why did she have to lose control with Draco Malfoy? Why did _one _time had to be enough for a baby to be conceived?

"Hermione?" Harry's hesitant voice said, "Are you... are you alright?"  
>"Y-yeah, I-I'm just-"<p>

She sniffed and wiped her tears with the back of her hand: she heard him leaving his bed and getting closer. He sat on the edge of her bed, and she felt his hand touching her shoulder awkwardly, trying to be comforting.

"I'm..."

She sniffed again - she wasn't supposed to tell a living soul, she had been forbidden to, but damn it, it was too much to bear. She couldn't cope with this on her own, especially since Malfoy was being such a jerk about it.

"Can you keep a secret?" she whispered.

He frowned, although she didn't see him in the darkness of the room.

"Of course."  
>"Even from Ron?"<br>"I-if I have to."

Hermione sat on the bed, lowering her head.

"I'm... I'm pregnant."

**End of the chapter:** Way to spill the beans, Mione! I debated a lot with myself for that one, and I finally opted for Hermione confessing, given that she's in a very vulnerable place, and that she knows Harry's reaction would be nothing like Ron's, etc. Please let me know what you think of this new chapter :D


	9. Promises

**May I suggest: **That you listen to Dandy Warhol's song _Sleep _while reading this chapter? (someone's been watching _Queer as Folk_ lately, yeah XD... the whoooole thing! Again. Sue me, this show is too good.)

**Chapter 9: Promises**

"Y-yeah," Harry started slowly, "Every girl in our year is, remember? I'm even having a baby with Parkinson."

Hermione shook her head.

"You don't get it. Everybody's baby is fake, Dumbledore told us that... but mine isn't. Mine's _real._ I didn't drink the potion, I didn't need to."

Harry stared at her in utter shock, his mouth opened and his mind running fast, searching for something to say. Of all the confessions he was expecting, this was certainly the last. It wasn't that he saw Hermione as this innocent, pure, forever-a-virgin person - he was in fact quite sure that she'd had sex with Viktor when she had gone on vacation with him in Bulgaria, but a_ baby?_That happened to people who forgot to protect themselves, whether it was with wizard or Muggle ways, it seemed extremely out of character for Hermione to have been so careless. 

"But wait... Hermione, I understand Ron will be shocked, but you can't hide it forever. I mean when every kid but yours is gonna disappear, it's gonna be pretty obvious... and you'll have to tell Krum, too-"

"What the hell does Viktor has to do with anything?"

"W-well I thought, you and him, you know-"

"We broke up in September, we're just friends now. And, for the record, as far as Ron is concerned, we've _only_ been friends."

Harry frowned. Hermione wasn't exactly Lavender Brown - sure she was pretty, but you didn't see her with many guys except himself and Ron. _Wait a minute..._

"Ron?" Harry risked.

"Don't be silly."

"But then... it's not _actually_-"

Hermione glanced up and their gazes met. She gave her friend a faint, sad smile as she put her hand on her still flat stomach.

"Say hello to the youngest Malfoy," she said with a broken voice, a voice that was almost bitter.

"Holy shit."

His hand clenched in a fist.

"I'm going to kick his ass. He's not getting away with it."  
>"You're not going to do anything!" she protested, "It's my fault too, and you said you'd keep it a <em>secret!<em> And Malfoy would be so pissed if he knew I told anyone... we're not supposed to but I couldn't-"

She bit her bottom lip.

"Do you understand now why I don't want you to tell Ron? He would be flipping shit, pardon my French."

"You and Malfoy?" Harry said, dumbfounded. "He would be more than flipping shit, believe me. He'd be flipping shit if it was Krum, if he knew about that, it'd be beyond words. Since_ when _are you two seeing each others?"

"Don't get any ideas, it was just once, and I'm still not sure how the hell it happened."

"Does he know? Malfoy, does he know that you're expecting a real child, or does he thinks it's part of the project?"

She nodded.

"He knows."

"And how did he react?"

"According to you, by shagging Parkinson five times. We just learned it today, Dumbledore told us instead of giving us the potion. I didn't even know, talk about a brutal way to find out about it. To have the headmaster, the Head of House and Snape telling me, it was just _fabulous._ But Malfoy, he's acting like nothing is happening, he says he won't recognise the baby, of _course_ that's because of my blood status-"

Harry looked at her in silence for a while. A question was burning his tongue, but he wasn't sure whether or not he should ask.

"So it'll be all me, no help whatsoever, my baby is barely conceived and he doesn't have a father already, I'm-"  
>"Did he force you to?" he finally cut her, his tone suddenly dark. "Don't lie to me."<p>

If Malfoy had done anything without her consent, he was not going to get away with it. Harry was going to make him fly all the way across the Great Hall, without using his wand. And he was also going to tell Ron afterward, and anything Harry would have previously done would seem like a vacation trip compared to what Ron would do if he was told that Malfoy raped Hermione.

"No, he did not! I swear," she insisted, and the Gryffindor's face softened a little. "We both... we both wanted it, as weird as it is. I can't even explain what happened, we were in the forest for Snape's detention, and I looked at him and suddenly he was different, it was like..."

She shook her head, memories of that night coming back to her.

"I don't know, it was like I didn't see the arrogant prick anymore, and it seems he couldn't see the Mudblood anymore either."

"Don't call yourself that."

"Harry, that's what I am," she quietly said. "Especially to him. And whether you call me a Mudblood or you're politically correct and call me a Muggle-born, it doesn't make any difference. I don't care, Harry, I stopped caring a while ago. Listen, there's more..."

She took a deep breath.

"We're the reason this project even exist. I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but Harry, I'm scared to death! T-Trelawney made a prophecy on Christmas Eve, about a baby who's supposed to bring the downfall of Voldemort... Dumbledore and Snape, and McGonagall too, they think it's _my _baby! That's how they knew before I did!"

Harry felt as though a rock had just been dropped on his chest.

"So the project is just to cover for you and Malfoy?" he finally understood. "But why?"

"Harry I'm terrified!" she confessed, as if he had said nothing. "What if _he_ finds out? Malfoy knows, and Merlin only knows which side he's actually on, what if he just spills the beans to Voldemort?"

"I thought it was supposed to be me?" Harry managed to say, "I thought... she said that none can live while the other survives... I thought I was supposed to be the one taking care of Voldemort."

The rock got heavier on Harry's chest as a haunting thought came to his mind. What if it was his fault that fate had chosen Hermione's unborn baby? What if he was supposed to act sooner, or to act differently at some point, hadn't done it, and now his burden had been placed upon that infant's shoulders? He knew too well what had happened to the parents of Trelawney's last prophecy, and he couldn't bear to lose his best friend. Furthermore, if he lost her by _his_ fault, he would never forgive himself.

"The prophecy she made on Christmas says you're a decoy. Look, I don't know how it works, I don't know if that prophecy cancels out the last or if they just add up together, but H-Harry, your mother, your father, t-they... I... I don't..."

She burst into tears, and Harry held her tightly against his chest. He couldn't blame her for being afraid, she had all the right to be scared to death. She knew that Lily and James Potter had been killed for a prophecy, she knew they had been killed simply for trying to protect their son. She sobbed in his arms, unable to stop her tears, and Harry felt a bit uneasy. This wasn't right, Hermione didn't crumble like this. Hermione wasn't vulnerable like that, Hermione was strong: to have her crying in his arms was a bit awkward to him. He stroked her hair gently, thinking about what he was supposed to say at this moment.

"Shh, shh," he whispered, trying to sound reassuring. "Nothing's going to happen to you, Dumbledore has it all worked out, you'll be all right, you, the kid, and, Merlin forbids, Malfoy too. You're safe here, it's not only Hogwarts, it's a room barely anybody knows about. You'll be safe..."

"I won't be in Hogwarts forever, what about then?"

"We'll see about that when we get there. Hermione, trust me, I'm not letting anything happen to you. You hear me? Hermione Granger, you're not going to die..."

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to let his words sink in. She wanted them to sink in, she wanted to believe them, she wanted it so badly. Harry's arms got tighter around her.

"I promise you'll be all right. If Malfoy won't be there for you then I will, I promise, just go to sleep now..."

-

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she was laying on her bed, her head resting on her pillow: she frowned. The last thing she could remember was crying in Harry's arms. She gave Harry - who had just woken up himself, in Malfoy's bed - a puzzled look.

"You fell asleep in my arms," he explained, "I made you comfortable and went to sleep too. I just laid you on the blankets, I didn't want to wake you up."  
>"Thank you," she said under her breath.<p>

She looked shyly at her feet.

"I'm truly sorry-"  
>"It's not your fault."<br>"I meant, for breaking down like this... it's not like you don't have enough to handle already."  
>"And whenever I want to handle it alone," Harry said, searching for her gaze, "Who's there to remind me that it's foolish and that it's what friends are for?"<p>

Harry and Hermione took their breakfast, and then left for their Transfiguration class: they stepped outside at the very same moment Ron stepped out of his own house.

"Blimey," he said upon seeing them both, "Did you guys swap?"

Before his friends could reply, he continued:

"I must do it too, I just _have_ to. Who'd be naive enough for... HA! Neville. And he's with Pavarti. Sweet..."  
>"We didn't swap," Harry corrected, "Didn't you here Dumbledore when Parkinson asked, we <em>can't<em>. I literally ran away for the night."  
>"And Malfoy let you sleep in his house?" he asked as they walked towards the exit. "It doesn't sound like him."<br>"He wasn't there, he was with Parkinson at _my_ place."

Harry shuddered.

"The horror."

Ron arched an eyebrow.

"I can only imagine."  
>"Do you reckon that one day, someone ought to tell Parkinson that Malfoy's been with about every skank in Hogwarts?" Harry suggested.<p>

Hermione briefly glared at him as they left the Room of Requirement. "Sorry" his lips said in perfect silence in Ron's back.

"You think she doesn't know?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes. "Get real mate, she isn't_ that_ stupid. She knows, it's just that she won't do a thing about it."  
>"Who wouldn't do a thing about their supposed partner sleeping around?"<br>"The sluttiest skank in school," the prefect mumbled.  
>"Ron!" Hermione said reproachfully. "That's a horrible thing to say."<br>"Oh come on-"  
>"She's right," Harry said, "And it's probably not true. As much as I hate Parkinson, you never see her with anyone else than Malfoy. It's just beyond me that he'd be sleeping around and yet she's on her knees before him, and I mean that literally."<p>

Ron sighed.

"All right, my most honest, smartest guess is that they're in one of these arranged Pure Blood marriage."

Both Harry and Hermione stopped moving, and Ron turned around, giving them a puzzled look.

"What?"  
>"You think they're married?" Harry finally asked. "That's ridiculous! We aren't even adults yet!"<br>"No, I don't think they're married _yet,_ but I do think they're expected to get married as soon as they finish Hogwarts. Parkinson probably doesn't care who he sleeps with only because she knows she'll be with him in the end."  
>"An arranged marriage? But that's... that's so <em>Middle Age!<em>" Hermione said. "It's not actually happening like this nowadays, is it?"

Ron shrugged.

"How do you think old families like the Malfoys, the Blacks and the Parkinsons remained 'pure' through centuries? Why do you reckon Sirius' family tree had so many people erased out of it, so many people disowned? Did you believe every girl and every boy born in these families magically found love in another Pure Blood every bloody time? It was rare back then, and it's almost impossible today. They marry someone they're expected to, not someone they love. If they don't do so, they become outcasts for their family. Pure-blooded biggots are indeed a rarity," Ron concluded before starting to walk again.

Hermione followed, the words of her friend still echoing in her head. She had always hated Malfoy, but right now, she couldn't help but feel a little sad for him, sad that he couldn't even decide who he would spend his life with.

_Makes you wonder why they bother so much about being pure if that's forcing them to give up on their happiness_, she thought as she entered McGonagall's classroom.

-

Later that day, Hermione was cooking dinner when she heard footsteps behind her: she glanced over her shoulder.

"Oh it's _you_," she said, and she redirected her attention on her cooking.  
>"I happen to live here now," he snarled.<br>"I didn't know you remembered that."

She threw some sliced mushrooms in her stew.

He leaned on the counter next to her.

"Funny, I don't remember us being an actual couple either."  
>"We're not, and I don't want us to be," Hermione protested. "But for Merlin's sake, we can't avoid talking about it forever."<br>"Talking about what?" he asked, crossing his arms.  
>"Bloody hell Malfoy, I'm pregnant with<em> your<em> kid! Don't give me any of your it's-not-mine-because-you're-a-Mudblood bullshit!"

She threw the remaining mushrooms in the boiling stew with a bit more strength than necessary.

"The situation is hard enough as it is," Hermione continued, "There's no need to be a complete asshole about it and making it twice as hard!"  
>"I haven't changed at all-"<br>"Well that's the problem!"  
>"Why should I change?" Draco snorted. "For you?"<p>

He shook his head.

"Granger, just because some old hag made a prophecy doesn't make it-"  
>"It <em>is<em> real!" she insisted. "Would you _please_ get your head out of your ass?"  
>"Right," he admitted, "The kid's real, and let's pretend that the prophecy is real, and that it's actually about us and not about some Chinese couple."<p>

He dug his eyes in hers. They were cold and hard, so different from that night in the forest.

"Nobody, not even Trelawney herself, said that it means we're supposed to be together. The prophecy spoke of two enemies having sex once, nothing more."  
>"It's not about that," she said defensively, "It's about-"<br>"The baby?"

Hermione nodded.

"It's not a Malfoy," he said harshly, "So what is there for us to discuss?"

"Would you just try to stop being a selfish prick for just one moment? This is serious."

"I didn't seem that much of a selfish prick in the forest now, did I?" he smirked at her, arching an eyebrow.

"And I didn't seem that much of a Mudblood there, did I?" she snapped back.

She couldn't help but feel satisfied at the utter shock on his face. Clearly, he didn't expect her to strike back using the very same weapon. _Two can play that stupid game, Malfoy._

"We could get killed," she said, "If You-Know-Who figures it out. You and me both, do you think he'll let you live if there's a chance you can bring his downfall? Do you think he'll risk it after what happened with Harry and his parents?"

She bit her bottom lip as Draco's eyes shifted away. She knew he wasn't going to throw her a witty answer this time, or to deny anything: if there was one thing Slytherins cared about, it was their own safety.

"I'm not expecting anything from you," she said softly. "I'll take care of the baby on my own, hell I'll even refrain from ever mentioning your name to him if you want me to. I don't want anything from you but your word that whatever side you decide to be on in this war, you will keep us safe."

"I'm not James Potter, Granger."

"You don't have to be. I'm just asking you to promise you'll never betray us. Swear to me that you won't ever tell about the prophecy."

There was a long silence as they both stared at each others.

"Malfoy-"

"Fine," Draco finally said, and Hermione knew it wouldn't get any better than this. "_Fine._"

He rubbed his neck.

"I'll be at Zabini's," he said after another awkward silence.

And then he walked away, quickly leaving the cottage and heading for his friend's.

**Note:** No such thing as being late ;) (just kidding, longest cliffhanger ever). Hopefully anyone who cared about this story subscribed to it, otherwise I think I'm pretty screwed!


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